The Capitol building was not protected by ancient wards or celestial fire, but by layers of mortal security, bureaucracy, and the Pride of its occupants. For Ethan, cloaked in a borrowed staff uniform, this was the most dangerous environment yet.
His strategy was his shield. The heavy blanket of Sloth inertia dampened his movements, masking the spiritual roar of his core. To the few security sensors he passed, he was kinetically slow, emotionally flat, and entirely unremarkable—a perfect shadow in the well-lit corridors.
He located Senator Vance in his private, soundproofed corner office overlooking the city. The Senator was on a conference call, his voice booming with the easy, practised authority of a man convinced of his own divine right to rule.
Through his Sin Perception, the Senator's aura was blinding—a massive, shimmering column of pure hubris. The Pride soul wasn't merely influencing the man; it had perfectly integrated, fueling the Senator's conviction that he was the most powerful, indispensable man in the country. This was spiritual armour layered with mortal ego.
Ethan closed the door behind him with a soft click, drawing no attention. The Senator didn't even turn from his call.
"Senator Vance," Ethan said, his voice flat, the Sloth inertia making the sound dull and unthreatening.
The Senator finally turned, annoyance clouding his face. "You're not supposed to—"
He never finished the thought. Ethan unleashed the weapon he had prepared: a focused, precise pulse of Gluttony, aimed not at the Senator's soul, but at his Ego.
The Gluttony power, the hunger of the mind, bypassed the Senator's physical defences and slammed into the spiritual armour of his self-regard. Ethan was consuming the feeling of being indispensable, the certainty of control, and the belief in his own superiority.
The effect was devastating. Senator Vance's eyes glazed over. His booming voice faltered, replaced by a sudden, paralysing wave of doubt. The Pride soul, which fed on this confidence, shrieked in spiritual agony.
I am not in control. The thought was alien, crippling.
Ethan pressed the attack, flooding the Senator's mind with the overwhelming, cold logic of his own insignificance. He was consuming the Pride, slowly stripping the spiritual armour from the soul.
The Pride soul realised the nature of the attack. It was not fire or brute force, but subversion. It abandoned the host's physical body and projected a desperate, mental counterattack directly into Ethan's mind.
"The Gluttony of power, Emissary. I understand your hunger. You want Order. I can give it to you!" the soul screamed, its voice a telepathic torrent of immense, seductive promises. "The Senator is weak. You are strong. Take the Senate. Take the city. Take the world. I will fuel your control. I will make you the perfect, untouchable order you crave. We can consume this world together!"
The temptation was immense. The Gluttony core, already addicted to control, screamed for the power. The sheer, intoxicating promise of unlimited mortal influence—the ability to establish his own order without interference from Lucien, Heaven, or the hunters—was the most dangerous offer he had faced.
We could stop the hunt. We could be gods.
The chaos of the Reality Warping began to twitch, encouraged by the thought of boundless possibility. Ethan felt his resolve waver, the apathy of the Sloth inertia threatening to allow him to simply accept the power.
The New Target
Miles away, at the abandoned docks, Seraphina knelt beside the recovering Kane. Her silver hand rested lightly on his shoulder, aiding his healing.
"The pattern has shifted," Seraphina stated, her voice tight with cold logic, overriding the memory of her own pain. "The flares are gone. He is no longer in the low places."
Kane, though weakened, accessed residual data from his damaged sensors. "The physical movement traces lead to high traffic areas. The financial core. The Capitol Hill district."
Seraphina closed her eyes, channelling the vast, informational network of the Celestial Hierarchy. The only new spiritual disturbance reported was a bizarre, localised spike of psychic dissonance near the Senate offices—a moment when a human mind seemed to shatter.
"He's hunting the Pride," Seraphina realised, her voice laced with dread. "He's targeting high-value, systemic threats. Not just anomalies, but the anchors of mortal corruption."
Kane grinned, a chilling sight. "He's no longer running, Angel. He's operating. He's found his purpose in this city."
Seraphina stood, her resolve renewed by the clear, tactical need. She still struggled with the memory of his sacrifice, but the Emissary was now a clear, high-level threat to cosmic order. If he continued to destabilise the pillars of mortal society, Heaven would send a full legion.
"We follow the power," Seraphina commanded, her celestial aura flaring. "He is hunting the most prideful man in the city. He will not stop there."
Back in the office, Ethan fought the crippling allure of the Pride soul's offer. He looked at the oblivious, now slumping Senator Vance, and saw the utter corruption that unchecked power bred.
He remembered his death. He remembered the void.
Order, not domination.
Ethan violently rejected the offer, channelling the cold, righteous fury of Wrath not into fire, but into Willpower, slamming the door shut on the Pride soul's seductive promise.
"I am already the master of chaos," Ethan projected, his mind ringing with infernal authority. "I don't need your cheap mortal control. I need your payment."
He focused the Gluttony power to its absolute limit, not merely consuming the ego, but now consuming the entire spiritual presence of the Pride soul's defiance. The Pride soul let out one final shriek of spiritual agony as its power source was utterly consumed.
Ethan immediately brought forth the Penance Chains, binding the now naked, screaming soul of Pride—a massive, crystalline entity of pure, frozen arrogance—and forcibly sucked it into his sigil.
Three down. Ten to go. The Senator collapsed, completely drained, spiritually naked, and reduced to a whimpering, deeply insecure man.
Ethan turned, leaving the devastated office. He had successfully completed the most subtle and arguably most dangerous mission yet. His hunters were now shifting their focus. He had just stepped out of the shadows and onto the main stage.